


Sinking With the Melody of the Cliffs of Eternity

by AceDiamondis



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 02:13:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5272736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceDiamondis/pseuds/AceDiamondis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU – The Dean decides this is as good of a year as any to add a few to their ranks. Laura Hollis’s name sits at the top of the list of candidates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sinking With the Melody of the Cliffs of Eternity

So – so Laura is definitely a vampire. The dangerous pointy teeth giving her a lisp, a paler complexion than normal, the compulsion to lap up every drop spilling out of the gaping neck wound in the corpse at her feet. It’s the exact definition of a vampire, or a bad dream, a very very bad dream.

Her new fangs slices her own lip by accident and the stinging pain is too real to mark this as anything but real, way too real.

Oh god, she’s a vampire. She never even got into the whole vampire craze or saw the appeal of them. If she had to choose any fictional thing to be transformed into it would be a witch and not a blood-sucking fiend.

The weak groan coming from the body snaps her out of her thoughts. It’s – his, the body is a male’s, a still alive male – eyelids flicker open, foggy from a combination of shock and blood loss. Did she do this to him? She can’t remember anything from before coming to the startling realization she’s a vampire now which is incredibly selfish, if she hadn’t been so self-absorbed she could have had an ambulance here already to save this guy.

Laura crouches down, clamping her hand over the wound to slow the bleeding. The urge to drain what’s left of him dry is almost enough to turn her into a crazed thing but the fact this is a human being on the verge of death keeps her in control.

“It’s okay, this is – it’s going to be okay, you’ll be okay,” she murmurs as she searches through his pockets for a cell phone. She finds it on the ground beside his right arm, the screen smashed. Her reflection stares back at her, distorted by a spider web of cracks.

She taps out three digit, taking deep calming breaths as she waits for an operator. Her dad taught her how to call 911 at a young age just in case. The easier you make it for them, the faster they can come help you, he said. For once she’s feeling thankful for his paranoid overprotective personality. When the operator asks, she rattles off their location and the situation with practiced precision.

He shuts his eyes. Laura can’t tell if it’s her imagination or if she can actually hear his heart slowing.

Does this new vampire thing come with superspeed? In the movies it does but she has a reflection so the movies can’t completely right. Picking him up and running to the nearest hospital is probably a bad idea, anyway. When someone is this injured you have to be careful with them or you could speed up the bleeding out.

Laura licks her own blood off her lip. It tastes a lot sweeter than she thinks it should be – kind of like Sweet-tarts actually. What his blood taste likes, she wants to know. He’s a big guy, the broad shoulders of a quarterback, muscles that size definitely belong to an athlete. Booze and burgers, maybe. Even in the dark with a layer of blood over him, he screams frat boy. Laura is not a fan of frat boys for a multitude of reasons.

He’s going to die. The ambulance won’t get here in time. Why let it go to waste?

She removes her hand from his neck, bringing her mouth closer. Blood sticks to her face as she slowly, experimentally, sucks on his wound. It makes her feel like a baby cow or something, taking her first sips of milk from her mother’s udder and god, isn’t that disturbing.

Sirens wailing in the distance shock her to her feet away from him and his juicy pomegranate flavored blood. Pomegranate like the ones her dad bought all the time when people started to go on and on about the health benefits.

It helps, thinking about her dad, reminding herself she’s human.

Laura turns tail and runs before the EMTs arrive and see her. She doesn’t trust herself right now. It’s too easy to imagine digging deep into the flesh of whoever they sent to rescue the poor guy she used as a juice box, a tiny five foot two nineteen year old crushing the spines of people twice her size. The image is so vivid she can already hear the screams.

She stops running when she realizes she doesn’t know where to go, what to do, what she can do.

Why do people romanticize vampires? There’s nothing attractive or tragically poetic about this, it’s awful and too much for her to handle.

“You didn’t kill him. Why not?”

The casual authority in the voice demands Laura’s full attention and in this state she doesn’t, can’t, resist. “He’s a person, he doesn’t deserve to die,” Laura whispers.

“He’s an insect. To die in service of beings greater than him is more of an accomplishment than anything he’ll achieve in his lifespan if left alive.” From the tone Laura would think this woman was talking about math, not the murder of someone with a family, friends, hobbies, and dreams. “You’re an absolute mess, darling. Here, come with me, I’ll have you cleaned up and prepare a meal for you. A growing girl needs to eat if she wants to grow big and strong.”

She stares at the pristine hand the woman offers. Hers are sticky with blood. Thinking about it makes her mouth dry, the promise of food drowning out everything else.

If having her hands dirtied by Laura’s bothers her, the woman doesn’t show it.

 

 

 

 

Everything from taking the woman’s hand and blinking to realize Laura is soaking in a bathtub the size of her dorm room is a blur. Bubbles float on the surface of the water. A flowery scent wafts through the air. She’s warm, content. The cut on her lip isn’t there anymore.

The fangs are.

How she ended up a vampire with someone dying in front of her is still a jumbled mess in her memories. She remembers a party, sipping liquor mixed with soda in a red cup, the world spinning out of control.

It could be a trauma shock thing. Blocking out memories too painful to have isn’t unusual.

“Well, cupcake, I hope you’re into dressing like a 60’s school teacher because it’s all Mother has in this place.”

Covering the essential areas faster than should be possible, Laura whips her head in the direction of the voice, cheeks burning. She strolls into the bathroom as if it was empty, carrying a bundle of clothes. She raises one expertly plucked eyebrow when her gaze settles on Laura. “Relax, sunshine, with that many bubbles your modesty is safe and sound.”

“Uh, who are you?”

“Carmilla. I’m your babysitter, sweetheart.” She smirks, her voice gaining a bitter edge with each word. “By Mother’s decree I’m to keep an eye on you until you get a grip on being a vampire.”

“She’s your mother? Was she – did she make me a vampire?”

“Does it matter? It won’t change what you are and I can tell you here and now that trying to get revenge is a sure-fire way to make your eternal existence a painful one.

Laura doesn’t know what to say. Carmilla is right probably but she still wants to know, to ask them why.

Carmilla drops the clothes near the edge of the bath, a pink towel on top. “When you’re done, she’ll want to talk to you. Down the hall.”

She’s almost at the door when Laura gathers up the courage to ask, “Can I call my dad?”

“Here’s a tip, never mention your dad around Mother.” Laura can’t see Carmilla’s expression but her voice is gentle, dipped in pity. “Forget about him, you’ll both be better off.”

The door slams closed, ripples form in the water from the vibrations then –

Silence.

In that moment she realizes she doesn’t need to breathe anymore.

 

 

 

“This world is a shell, one day, once we’ve had our fill, we’ll crack it open and be free,” the woman – Mother, she wants to be called – explains. “Achieving that requires sacrifices and we’ll make it happen, without fail. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Mother,” Laura replies and the betrayal in the word steals what’s left of her soul.


End file.
